The Protest
by DressagePunk
Summary: Isabella Swan; booked with four accounts of first degree assault; after assaulting a military funeral protestor with a Christian Louboutin Shoe. Rated T will be M shortly.


Isabella Swan; booked with four accounts of first degree assault; after assaulting a military funeral protestor with a Christian Louboutin Shoe.

Bella Swan sat in the front row of a church pew. Tears streaming down her face. The ceremony was drawing to a close; she had spoken a sentence or two. She hadn't been able to continue. How was she supposed to say anything about the man that had done everything for her?

She still didn't know how to say goodbye. She didn't want to say goodbye. The military priest stopped talking. The men closest to the caskets started to fold the flag that was laid over the wooden casket. She bit down hard on her upper lip as they handed her the flag. She was past trying to stop tears.

The blue uniformed men started to carry the casket out of the church. Bella watched as her grandfather the man that had raised her, taught her everything he knew, made her the successful stock broker she was today, carried out into the street.

The military personal that attended the funeral of a three star general was vast. But Bella stood right behind the casket, a purple heart pinned to the front of her black lace dress. She walked out into the street, were a hundred people stood, a few feet away hoisting signs protesting the military.

The idiots chanted as the military men hoisted her grandfather into the car parked outside the street. She waited, she wanted to think. She thought about how he'd fought for their freedom. How he'd continually supported the military, how'd he drug her though more countries and territories than she could name.

Those were the things those idiots couldn't change, but most of all was that Purple Heart that settled into her clavicle. She felt the weight of it, she felt the meaning. And that's why she didn't regret her actions.

Launching herself away from her friends, family and anyone else waiting in front of the church, she grabbed the red bottomed heel off her foot. The first one she hit was a hippie looking kid. Long braided hair that didn't looked washed. Trashy rainbow sign that read 'Thank God for Dead Soldiers'.

She hit him as hard as she could, ripping the sign from him, and swung around until she made contact with another person. The middle aged man hit the ground quickly. She heard screams, she heard nonsense, all she wanted was blood.

No one should thank god for dead soldiers. Dead anyone was a tragedy; even at the top of the military her grandfather had valued every life. Why couldn't these freaking idiots do the same? She'd never know, she didn't care. She wanted to honor him.

Her main goal of course was not accomplished. She couldn't stop the protest, but she could get herself arrested.

Isabella Swan sat in the plastic chair of the 14th precinct, her hands forced together by steel cuffs. Her hair was falling in her eyes; her shoes were contained in a plastic bag sitting on the desk a few feet from her. She glared at the bag; she glared at everything she could.

The police should be on her side, most of them served in some sort of armed forces. She scowled at anyone that moved. She crossed her legs; her legs didn't look half as nice as they did with those shoes. She hadn't seen the police officer that had her file in what felt like hours.

People walked out of the room just as quickly as they walked in. She scowled at everyone, including the cop sitting over in the corner. He hadn't moved since she walked in, but every time she glanced at him he seemed to be staring at her.

She was probably imagining things, she just wanted out. She pulled on the handcuffs that held her wrists, to no avail.

She spun in her chair when the door behind her opened. The man with her file had returned.

"So Miss Swan, can you please elaborate as to why you felt it appropriate to assault multiple persons with your shoe at a protest?" He asked cold and harsh.

"Officer, My grandfather taught me two things, respect the military and stand up for what's right. Now please excuse me for sticking up for that at his funeral." Bella seethed hot air rushing out of her mouth.

"Miss Swan, What you did was completely illegal. Now If you wish to continue talking please be aware that you have been properly mirandized and have a right to a lawyer." That was the fourth time the cop had mentioned a lawyer. She'd already called Jake.

What a joke, her boyfriend. He couldn't take time off to come to her grandfather's funeral; and it had currently taken him at least 3 hours to come rescue her from the gripes of the police.

She thought he was coming quickly given that he was in fact a lawyer. When she felt strong hand sink onto her shoulders, she thought he'd finally arrived.

But as she spun, it was the cop. The one that had starred at her from the corner. His face was rough with stubble, his tee shirt was pulled too tight across his chest the word "SWAT" spelled across the front. His scent was overly masculine, something she remembered. Cologne, just like the kind her grandfather used to wear. Ralph Lauren, the classic one in the green bottle.

Bella remembered how furious he was the day when she mixed all the bottles on his dresser in a tube on the bed. She must have been about four, but the house had stunk for a week. She smiled at the memory.

The man behind her extended his hand, "Edward Cullen."

"Isabella Swan" She said keeping her fists clenched in her lap.

AN: Let me know what you think, I haven't written Bella/Edward in a while. Don't know if I'll continue this one. Please review!


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